Measure
by MissZivaBeckett
Summary: One shot written a year after Amelia has gone into rehab and her reflections on this : Read and review!


**Hello(:**

**Just a rambling one shot I wrote at 12 in the morning ;)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Private Practice **

**Read and review!**

**Enjoy xx**

It had been a year. A year since she had lost Ryan. A year since she had gone into rehab. Spent her 50 days, gotten sober. But was that really something an addict could become? Sober? I mean a cutter will always be a cutter; an alcoholic will always be a drinker. Just because the word 'ex' is in front of it doesn't mean they are. Come to think of it Amelia had never heard the term 'ex drinker' or 'ex addict' it wasn't something that was often said. Sure people recovered, like she had, but at some stage you are always going to fall back down. Always going to take another step back in the never ending road to recovery. It was a constant battle. No time to stop for a moment and reflect. Only time to push forward, battle the demons. None of those lonely nights were easy. The nights where she would sit on her couch, staring into space, a bottle of liqueur in her hand. Unopened, but there, the liquid almost begging to be drunk. To be poured down the throat of a victim. A helpless, trying to recover victim.

It had been a year since she'd last gotten high. Gone to the place where everything was okay. Where no one had their high expectations. No one yelled at her, everything just floated into place. A dream that was never to end. But they did. Every time. And every time the fall was deeper than the last. She would fall deeper into the crevice she was holding onto. Desperately clawing at the edge. Wanting out, but refusing the help of others. Refusing to tell everyone the despair that was drowning her. The guilt of doing this to herself, to Ryan. Her drunk love between her and Ryan masked the sadness. She wasn't afraid to live with him. He made everything okay. When Charlotte would yell at her, he would take her to that place. Her place where she could be free, free from the world, free from herself. Things would change. Eventually.

One more, one more go. One more high. One more smoke. One more drink. One more pill. One more time. He was gone. After one more time Ryan was gone. It was her fault. They were going to go into rehab the next day. Going to get sober, start a family. But no, one pill ended it. And now a year later Amelia was doing it again. Alone, if she was to never wake in the morning she didn't care.

She had laid low for the year. Had gone to her meetings, listened to Charlotte, gone to lunch with everyone from work. Smiled. She had smiled a lot in the past year, too much. A fake smile had slipped on her face and stayed there, permanently.

Today, a year since she had decided to quit. Leave her fantasy world, decided to stay in reality. A whole 365 days later and she was sitting on the floor, bottle of pills in hand. She could do this. Quite easily. Pop, crush, inhale. Simple as that. High. But she wasn't going to. That would make her weak. Fragile. Like broken glass. And no. That wasn't what Amelia Shepherd was. She was not weak. She was not fragile and she most certainly was not broken. She was strong. Every day she would stand in a hospital, filled with drugs and she wouldn't touch one. She was a strong person now. The highs she had experienced did not frame her. They did not shape her as a person. It was just another chapter in her book. One door closed and another opened. She had recovered. Hadn't taken a pill in a year. Hadn't had a sip of alcohol in a year.

How _do_ you measure a year? In how many days sober you are? How many days it's been since you've held a razor? How many days it's been since someone has cared about you. Looked your way, maybe flashed a smile?

So as Amelia sat there on her floor, bottle of vodka clutched in one hand, and a bottle of pills gripped in the other. Unopened, but there. What would Ryan think? She thought as she stared at them. He would disapprove, knowing it would throw her back down the rabbit hole. Back into her state of darkness. She knew she couldn't let herself back into that place. She didn't care about herself as much, but she would do it for Ryan. She would keep her year, for Ryan. She would stay, willing for a break from reality. A split second to lose herself. But she wouldn't. For Ryan. For the family she would never have. For the broken hearted self she had become

She would not take a drink today. She would not inhale a pill. She would stay sober. A year ago she had taken the first step towards finding herself again. She would not lose that. After losing Ryan she couldn't afford to lose herself.

The only thing she could lose were the bottles in her hands. With that thought in mind the vodka bottle smashed, against the wooden floor, sending the sharp aroma in an upward rise. The pills were thrown out the window, one by one.

And she stayed sober. She kept her year. Just like that.

**Review please!**

**Willa xx**


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